


Yesterday's Tomorrow

by B_does_the_write_thing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reincarnation, Rumbelle Revelry, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_does_the_write_thing/pseuds/B_does_the_write_thing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ghosts of their past may be their undoing. {a rumbelle ghost story}</p><p>- Nominated for Best Rumbelle Revelry & Best Supernatural Fic in 2016 T.E.A's-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yesterday's Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Rumbelle Revelry for Kirsieleigh! The prompts were witching hour, wicked and forgotten.  
> The lovely Prissygirl beta-ed it for me! <3

 

The sun dipped lower in the sky as a winter storm threatened to break over the gentle hills of Maine. The wind held a promise of snow as the clouds gathered hovered heavy in the sky overhead. On the hill far outside any city limit, Belle French stood at the foot of the hill, looking up into the setting sun. Almost thirty years old, her eyes held a curious depth to them as if she was old beyond her years. At the moment, she appeared dejected as she stared into the sunset. Finally, she exhaled and shook her head for the fourth time that day. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry but this isn’t right either.”  

Behind her, an exasperated sigh indicated her companion’s thoughts on this development. Belle turned to him, offering a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, but you see the yard’s not quite right.” She gestured towards the rather steep hill, the driveway almost vertical. The house on the top of the hill was, as she had requested, American Gothic but she did not need to see it any closer. This wasn’t the right house either. 

“Miss French,” came the disgruntled response. “We have seen every American Gothic property registered in or around Storybrooke. Perhaps you have the wrong city?”

Mr. Robert Gold stared out at her from behind his designer sunglasses. His arm draped over the open car door of the Cadillac. A slight man in his late fifties, he had a permanent nonplussed look on his sharp features.   Belle returned to the passenger side, after she spared the house one more glance. The scene was quaintly domestic, a white minivan peeked out of the garage and toys littered the yard. “No,” she shook her head, clambering back into the car and snapping her seatbelt on. “It’s definitely Storybrooke, see?”

She reached for her purse but as Gold joined her back in the car, he shook his head before starting the engine. “A vintage newspaper clipping citing Storybrooke is not a guarantee, Miss French.” Gold put the car in drive. “Perhaps they wrote down the wrong city?”

“No,” Belle murmured as she watched the trees began to blur past them.  “It’s here, I can feel it.”

Silence followed this. Of course that didn’t bother Belle, she had grown accustomed to this kind of response from people. Since she had been young, Belle had seen certain things. Glimpses of another time had haunted her all her life. She had seen candles flickering in the darkest of nights. She had heard a porch swing swaying on a breezeless day. She could often feel the rough press of homespun cotton against her skin; or smell a farm while standing in the heart of the city. Sometimes the sound of a heartbeat followed her own as if she had two hearts beating in her chest. Yet, she had never felt anything as strongly as she did about the house in the photograph.

An American Gothic masterpiece up on a hill, she had stumbled upon the clipping at a flea market the other month. It had captivated her beyond reason. A three story traditional Gothic with rounded windows- she had known it immediately. It was as familiar to her as her childhood home. Her father had shaken his head at her when she had shown it to him, unrecognizing. She had been tempted to drop it, let it lie and move on with her life.

 Yet, something about it had continued to haunt her and now she was here, in Storybrooke. Being shown around the city by a man who was growing close to homicide if the way his jaw clenched was any sign. 

“Mr. Gold,” Belle attempted, fingers curled protectively around her purse and its contents. “I really do appreciate you taking the time to show me around today.”

He gritted his teeth into a facsimile of a smile. “Well, seeing as you made it sound as you were looking to buy or rent, I thought it would be rather beneficial to myself.”

Belle shrugged innocently just as they passed another house up on a hill, a colonial farmhouse that looked as if it had seen better days. “Your son insisted I call you,” she told him. “Plus, I am paying you.”

“Lunch, gas and all the coffee I can drink is hardly payment, Miss French,” the real estate mogul told her. He signaled right to head back towards town but Belle saw him glance sideways at her from beneath his shades. “As pleasing as the company may be, I assure you I will be speaking with my son about being volunteered for any future wild goose chases.”

Belle remembered how Neal had grinned when he had volunteered his father to show her around town. The younger man had called his father to the town hall and introduced him to Belle. The scruffy youth had been nothing like the short but striking man in the immaculate three-piece suit. Still, they had both had that stubborn set to their jaw and an eye for reading people. Belle had enjoyed their day together, much more so than she had expected possible.

 

The sun winked at Belle as if glittering off something in the distance that she could not see. She found herself pointing out the window, saying, “Take a right up here.”

“Miss French,” came the beleaguered reply. “It’s a quarter to five and I would like to be home before the sun sets-“

“Right there,” Belle exclaimed, jabbing at the window as they neared a corpse of trees. “There’s a road here.”

“There’s nothing out this way,” Gold assured her, without slowing down. “It’s all woods.”

“But-“ Belle protested just as they drove past a small gap in the trees. She clawed for the door handle, her excitement bubbling past worry or concern for her lack of modesty. Something was calling to her just beyond those pines and she felt her entire being rising to meet it. “Look, didn’t you see that? Go back!”

“Miss French,” Gold said over her even as he began to slow down. “There’s nothing back there but trees and dirt-“

“Then, why was there a driveway?”

A grumble followed this. Still, Gold switched the car to reverse and began to back up. He had his arm over the back of her chair and Belle pressed her face to her own window to better see. As they inched backwards, she grew more and more sure. She knew full well the man beside her was placating her but that was fine. It was here, she could feel it. 

Sure enough, a small gap in the trees revealed an old abandoned gravel drive. It was half buried in overgrowth and fallen branches. “See?” Belle crowed, throwing a grin over her shoulder at him as she reached for the door handle. 

Before Gold could stop her, she had her foot out of the car and headed towards the opening.  She heard him calling for her to get back into the car but she ignored him. 

She knew this place. As her feet carried her forward, the twisted dead branches melted away. A fresh laid gravel drive appeared with flowers booming alongside it as it winded just out of sight. Belle smelled the scents of summer as birds chirped overhead. Home was just around the corner. She heard the clip clop of a horse’s trot coming from behind her and she turned back to meet it, a smile blossoming across her face.

“Miss French!” Hands clasped around her wrist and the summer day disappeared. Belle found Mr. Gold standing before her, frowning as the sun reflected in his glasses. “If this is someone’s property, we’re trespassing.”

She blinked at him before shaking her head to clear it. Winter was back surrounding them. Snow began to fall onto their shoulders as the sun overhead started to dip down. Belle glanced at the blocked driveway, seeing it as if a shadow laid over it. “Sorry,” Belle murmured, glancing down at her hands. “I haven’t had an episode like that since my mother passed.”

“An episode?” He looked quizzical, letting her hands drop back to her side as he stood between her and the winding drive. 

Belle looked down at her hands, searching them as if they held some answer. “Sometimes,” she began carefully, knowing little to nothing about the stranger before her. “I remember things that I shouldn’t remember.”

There had been too many trips to specialists and doctors at the age of sixteen. None of them had been able to stop the visions. It did not matter what drugs they prescribed or what natural remedies they recommended. This double sight was as much part of her as the color of her eyes or the shape of her nose. Few people understood that.

She couldn’t explain why she had chosen to confide her closest secret to this singular man. Just something about the moment had seemed to insist upon it. Perhaps because she stood on the edge of discovering something about herself and to her mixed surprise and relief, she did not want to confront it alone.

Gold took his sunglasses off, revealing trouble brown eyes. His shoulder length silver hair ruffled as he turned to glance at the blocked drive before back to her.  Belle stood torn between watching his reaction and not to start back towards the drive. Finally, he spoke. “Miss French, as the case might be, I still think we should get back to town before it gets dark.”

“You don’t believe me,” Belle’s shoulders sagged.  “It’s fine, no one ever does. But I came all this way and I’m going to go find out what’s back there. So, are you coming with me or not?”

His lips pressed together as if to hold back a scathing retort. Finally, he asked,” Is there any chance of stopping you?”

Belle shook her head, eyes brightening. Something waited just out of sight for her. Something that had been calling her home since before she had ever known it.

 Gold sighed. “Then, I suppose I’m going to have to make sure you don’t get lost or hurt wandering up there in the dark. Last thing I need is to have my daughter-in-law accusing me of negligence.”

“She’s the sheriff, right?” Belle asked as they both began back towards the brush. Gold nodded as he stepped over a large log before taking her gloved hand to help her over the same one. As a team, they soon made it through the worst of the debris. Belle stayed close to his side, taking solace in his warmth.

They found themselves standing just around the bend where the trees began to thin. The sun set before them, deep oranges and reds painted the sky as the rays spread out and down over the horizon. The light peeked out from behind the large hill and illuminated the house that stood upon it. Belle took a step forward, shielding her eyes as she peered up at it. “There,” she said softly as Gold joined her. “I told you it was here.”

“I’ve never seen this before,” Gold declared awestruck. He took in the overgrown lawn and half washed away drive. “It’s not on any maps I’ve ever seen.”

Belle had only seen it in the photograph burning in her pocket, but it felt familiar, as if she had known it all her life. “Let’s go take a look,” Belle suggested and she took off towards the house, Gold following in her wake. He murmured halfhearted protests as they went but his eyes raked the house and she knew he was as curious as she was. 

Their footsteps crackled on the dead leaves littering the ground. Bare branches covered in snow reached out at them as they walked up the hill. They finally reached the large iron gate that surrounded the main property. Gold moved towards the left of the house. He bent down to inspect the stone wall that matched the stairs going up the hill. The drive ended near a barn, half collapsed with singes and char marks on the few beams still standing. Belle rested her hands upon the gate, the cold steel unyielding under her gloves. 

The smell of smoke and the heat of a fire long ago washed over Belle. She could hear horses screaming and feel embers dancing on the wind, landing on her exposed skin. Despair and fear choked her as ash and smoke washed over her. In the midst of this chaos, she felt the prickling of her skin as if someone watched her from the shadows. She turned her head to find a figure all in black staring at her from across the lawn. Malice and hatred swept over her and Belle’s knees weakened.  The iron beneath her fingers warmed as if it too was on fire, and Belle released it as she reeled back into winter. 

Gold noticed her abrupt stagger and made his way back to her. “Everything okay?” Belle nodded with a queasy smile as the smell of burnt flesh still lingered in her nose. “We should head back,” he said, looking back up at the abandoned house. “I want to check with Mayor Mills on the land deed for this area, figure out who may own this place.”

“I don’t think anyone owns it,” Belle told him, eyes lifting back up to the third story window. She reached out and found the gate’s padlock, tugging at it with a sharp quick jerk until it came loose in her hand. The rusted metal dropped from her palm to the ground as she pushed the gate open and took to the stairs. 

“Miss French! Come back here at once, it’s not safe!”

Wind lifted her curls covered in snowflakes but Belle didn’t feel it. Instead, there was the sound of laughter in her ears. The feel of a man’s hand in hers led her up the stairs as the voices called them in from inside. The man’s back was to her so she could not see his face. He limped slightly on one leg though it did not seem to slow him down. Belle let him pull her up the stairs, feeling content and pleased. 

“Miss French, please,” came the determined voice from behind her and she paused on the stairs. She turned away from her suitor to look back down at the lawn only to find winter had come.

Snow fell in clumps on the stone path leading up the hill and the trees were swaying in the rising wind. Belle found Gold standing before her. His hand clutched her outstretched one and the other held her shoulder. He looked unsettled and Belle flushed. She knew her episodes were disconcerting to others. Her father often said it looked as if she faded away when she disappeared into them. The man before her was unsure of what was happening but concerned enough to stay around despite it.  “Places like this are one second away from collapsing on themselves,” he warned her. “We shouldn’t go exploring some old ruin in the dark.”

She smiled at him, as she looked down at his hand in hers. “I need to know,” she explained quietly. She pushed past him to reach the stairs to the porch as the sun sank lower in the sky. She heard him curse under his breath but his footsteps fell in line behind her. As they reached the front porch, Belle hopped up the stairs. She glanced to her left to see the dangling chains of an old porch swing chinking together in the wind. 

Gold’s footsteps did not follow her up the stairs.  Belle turned to find him standing still as a statue at the base of them. His hand lingered on the rails as he gazed unseeing at his own hand. “Mr. Gold?” Belle said, moving back towards him. He didn’t respond, but his mouth moved and when she reached the top stair, his eyes jerked to her. 

A name dropped from his lips. It was almost a whisper before he shook his head, brown eyes clearing to gaze up at her in some confusion. “Miss French?” Gold managed, blinking as his hand went up to his head. “Sorry, I was just…I was just thinking of something.”

Belle didn’t press; she simply nodded. He fell silent after this, climbing the stairs to join her on the porch. “We need to get moving,” Belle reminded him as she pulled out her phone. There was no signal here but her clock read it was quarter to seven. They had less than fifteen minutes of light if they were lucky.

The two of them made their way to the front door, a weather-beaten wooden door that had seen better days. Gold tried the handle and it creaked open under his touch. Belle went to slip in but Gold gripped her arm to hold her back. “I’ll go first,” he told her with a frown. “I have some experience in inspecting condemned buildings.”

Stepping inside, Gold flipped out his own cell phone to illuminate the dark interior. Belle peered in after him. The hall was dark wood covered in dust. On the right, stood a grand staircase that took up the entire right wall of the entranceway. When Gold had made it four or five steps, Belle grew impatient and crossed the threshold after him. 

As Gold spun around to protest her entry, the door slammed shut behind her. Belle yelped, spinning around to grab at the door handle. She tugged and twisted at the ancient knob but it refused to budge. Gold joined her, cursing under his breath as he held his phone up to examine the door.

Belle’s heart sank as Gold nudged her out of the way to tug at it himself. “Looks like it’s wedged shut,” he panted as he released the silver handle. “Must have gotten rusted and warped open until the wind managed to slam it shut. Things like this are exactly why I asked you to wait outside, Miss French.”

Belle avoided Gold’s displeased gaze though she felt it burning on her face. The wind had not slammed it shut, and they both knew it. The wind while rising outside was not strong enough to blow her curls from her face, much less the hat from her head. Turning to view the dark hallway, Belle peered into the inky blackness. “I’m sure there’s a back door,” she offered grimly. “Or one of the windows?”

“The windows,” Gold gritted out, still staring at the door. “Are all nailed shut to keep out trespassers.”

"Oh. Well, I suppose we ought to find the back door,” Belle suggested. “I’ll take the left if you take the right?”

“No,” Gold overruled, shaking his head. “There’s a basement underneath us and I can’t promise these floorboards aren’t termite ridden. We go together. Kitchen looked to be in the back left corner so follow me. And Miss French,” Belle looked over at him to find him leveling a finger at her. “Slowly.”

They made their way through the abandoned house with the aid of their cell phone flashlights. Gold was focused on getting out in one piece. He was meticulous in tapping out the floorboards before putting his weight on them. Belle trailed after him, swinging her cell phone in arcs around the room. The manor had high cobwebbed ceilings and faded paint from years of disuse. Gold continued on without glancing up from his feet. Belle kept close beside him, peering into corners as they went. She could not shake the feeling that someone was watching them, empty as the house appeared to be. 

When they reached the kitchen, they found it completely shadowed. The back door was boarded up with two by fours and enough nails to fill a sink. Gold groaned, as Belle moved her light around the kitchen’s empty floors. “There’s the basement,” Belle called out to Gold, moving towards it. “Do you think they might have a storm cellar entrance?”

“This isn’t Kansas,” Gold grumbled. “Beside who knows what’s living down there.”

Moving away from the basement door, Belle swung her light over the intricacies of the kitchen. “This place is beautiful,” Belle murmured, letting her hands ghost over the dusty countertops. “Did you see the detailing on the moldings in the dining room?”

“Bit too dark for my taste,” Gold replied without looking. Belle turned, illuminating his face with her light as she grinned at him. 

“Did you just make a joke?” she asked him. He shrugged but she saw the corners of his lips turn up. “Don’t worry,” Belle teased back. “I won’t tell anyone. Your secret sense of humor is safe with me.”

He smiled back at her but he broke away, moving towards the center of the room. “Guess we’ll have to break a window,” Gold decided. He glanced at the small row of windows against the back wall. “Did you see any that were big enough to get through?”

“I think so,” Belle said. She glanced outside as Gold moved to find something to use against the windows. Outside, the snow was starting to fall thicker and faster. The wind had risen quickly and the snow swirled in an frenzy outside the window. “But I think we might want to stay put.”

 

Joining her by the window, Gold peered up at the clouds overhead and growled. “Perfect. We’re going to freeze to death in an abandoned monstrosity. Or risk going outside and get lost trying to find the car in a blizzard.”

The house creaked over them and Belle gave him a nervous glance. “I don’t think it cared for you calling it a monstrosity.”

“It’s a house, Miss French,” Gold grumbled as he moved away from the window. “It does not have feelings.” Belle glanced back at the shadows from the way they came and shivered a bit. She was not sure how true that was. “I know I saw a chimney. Let’s see if we can find some kindling.”

Trailing behind him as they went in search of the parlor, Belle felt more and more uneasy. As they moved from room to room, she felt more and more strongly as if something was watching them. The shadows in the corners were all empty and the furniture had long vanished from the rooms. Still, Belle felt as if this place, forgotten as it was, had not been entirely abandoned.

“Mr. Gold,” Belle asked as they went, “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Not a clue,” he replied without turning. “But if I’m correct….yes, here we are.”

He disappeared to the left. Belle followed, one more glance over her shoulder before she entered the main parlor. A large mantle took up the entire far wall, and Gold was peering along the side, looking for the flue. When he found it, he used his teeth to remove his glove, as he closed his phone and dropped it back in his pocket. “Come shine a light on this for me,” he told her, face bent in concentration. Belle obliged, coming over to hold her light up as he grunted in effort. 

After a moment, the flue creaked open and a blast of chilly winter air swept in from the now open pathway. Belle moved closer to Gold, even as he stepped back towards her. It ended in a rather awkward situation in which both ended up jumping away from each other. Belle’s hand reached out to steady herself, and landed on the back of an old fainting couch. She felt the floor drop away from beneath her as she fell backwards on to it.

Laughter and a spring breeze came in from the open window as Belle reached for another glass of lemonade. A horse approached, followed by the sound of male greetings. Belle lowered the book to her lap. Hope blossomed in her chest as she craned her neck to look through the adjoining room’s door. The newcomer’s voice echoed as he came inside. His boots slapping against the hardwood and then, the door creaked open to reveal him.

Belle stood from the couch. Her book dropped to the floor just as he came towards her. His odd limp forgotten in the haste in which he approached her. Then, he was sweeping her into his arms and pressing her back down on the couch as he followed. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders as she held on to him. She felt he would vanish if she allowed herself to loosen her grip for a moment. The rough fabric of his riding jacket scratched against her cheek. She pressed her lips to the soft skin of his neck.  He shuddered and pressed her closer to him. 

The world faded away. The sounds of the men at work outside and the women in the kitchen grew quiet. The smell of the freshly squeezed lemons was gone in the wake of his scent. He smelled of musky sweat from his ride and the underlining scent of clean cedar. He pulled back just enough to press his mouth to hers. Between kisses, he murmured promises to never leave her again and Belle believed him.

Despite the warmth of the summer air and the heat of his embrace, Belle began to grow cold. She pressed closer to him, her hands tightening but it was no use. Belle found herself blinking up at the dark room of the manor from her prone position on the moth eaten couch. 

Shaking her head, she sat upright, shaking as the wind from the flue brought snow into the room. It gathered in small piles along the mantle stones. Belle stood, and saw Gold standing at the fireplace. His hand clenched around the mantle and eyes were blank.

“Mr. Gold,” Belle called out, moving to him. He was as cold as she was, his shoes white with snow. “Mr. Gold,” Belle repeated, moving her gloved hand to touch him. Before she could, his unseeing eyes swept to hers and he murmured, “Isabelle…”

Belle paused, hand hovering between them as the brown eyes of Mr. Gold glinted at her as if he was under water. “ Belle,” she reminded him.

He didn’t respond to her, eyes staring unseeing through her. Belle licked her chapped lips as another shiver ran through her before she let her hand fall on his arm. As if jolted alive, the older man shuddered under her touch. His eyes gleamed back to life as he gazed down at the floor in alarm.

“There’s firewood in the basement,” he told her. “Stay here.”

Belle watched mystified as Gold hurried from the room. She fumbled for her phone, heart dropping when she saw it had low battery.  An hour had passed from the last time she had checked it. She glanced back at the couch, and shivered again. 

Gold returned shortly, arms full of firewood, which seemed old but useable. “Old bin downstairs,” he said as he knelt in the snow patches. “Lucky for us it was sealed or insects would have gotten in there.”

 “Do you have a light?” Belle asked, standing behind him to watch him work. She aimed the phone at his hands to help, taking his grunt and nod as thanks. 

“Matchbox,” he said, fishing it out of his coat pocket. “My grandson collects them.”

“Interesting hobby,” Belle said gratefully, sinking down beside him as he struck a match. Fire flamed to life, growing bright and tall as another gust of wind shrieked down the chimney. Gold made sure to shield it as he brought it to the kindling. They watched in delight as the ancient dry wood caught and sparked to life.

“How did you know it was down there?” Belle finally asked as they both knelt beside the growing flame. 

The man beside her shook his head as he gazed down at the fire. “I just thought that’s where firewood would be.”

“Or did you see something?” Belle pressed him, eyes searching his face. “Outside on the stairs and then just now in here?”

He turned to her, brown eyes large in his face and Belle realized he was terrified. “How did you know?” he asked her, voice low. 

“I told you,” Belle said with a small smile. “I’ve seen things my whole life. And just now on the couch… it’s this place. I’ve been seeing this place, I’ve been remembering it as if –“

“As if you belonged here,” he finished for her. He jerked to his feet. He made his way towards the fainting couch and lowered himself onto it. Belle followed him, standing just beside him as they stared at the fire. The window outside showed the storm had grown worse. The sky was pitch black with white swirls and ice was beginning to accumulate even on the covered porch.  The wind screamed like a banshee as Belle sank down next to Mr. Gold. She left just enough room on the couch for a third party between them.

“What did you see?” he asked her, eyes bright in the now crackling fire. Belle paused, trying to recall her spell. It had been as real to her as this moment was. Now, it proved elusive as a dream to try and explain.

“I was here,” she started. “And it was summer. A man came. We….”

Belle faded off, trying to articulate the feeling that she had experienced in the vision. The man had been older with silver hair and fair skin. She could still smell him and feel him under her fingertips but she could not explain further.

“It was early spring,” Gold shared, ducking his head down so his hair fell like a curtain to hide his face. “There was a dinner and a girl. She was cold and I thought perhaps a fire-”

“Isabelle?” 

“How did you know?“ Gold asked, turning to glance up at her from his hunched position.

 Belle shrugged. “You called me Isabelle just now.”

He looked puzzled. “I did?”

Belle nodded before another shiver ran down her spine. Gold noticed it and stood. “Let’s move this closer to the fire and then I’ll go get some more wood.”

“I’ll help,” Belle offered as they both moved the ancient piece closer to the heat. A few minutes later, they came back in holding large trundles of wood. 

As they settled back down by the flames, Belle sighed as she held her fingers out to the fire. Gold had been silent for a while and she was unsure what to say. “Have you always had visions?” 

Belle shrugged, rubbing her hands together and sitting back. The couch did not seem to hold any more memories and she relaxed against the stained fabric. “Since I was kid,” she admitted. “But when my mother passed when I was sixteen, it got worse. Doctors said it was a coping mechanism.”

“How are visions a coping mechanism?” Gold scoffed and Belle leaned closer to him as she smiled. 

“I’ve learned that people do not want to deal with the unknown,” she explained. “Easier to rationalize than believe.” 

Silence soon fell back between them as they sat upon the old chair. They were close enough to touch but far enough apart for it to not be accidental. Belle wondered if she could ask further about his visions. She had never met anyone else afflicted by them when he surprised her with a question of his own. 

“The man in your vision,” Gold inquired. “What did he look like?”

Belle frowned as she tried to remember. “He was older with a salt and pepper beard and dark eyes. I think he has a limp.” She twisted to him. “What does she look like?”

“Isabelle?” He asked and Belle nodded. “She was young, large blue eyes with dark brown hair, slight.”

“Like me?” Belle asked, glancing down at herself. 

“No and yes,” Gold answered as he glanced over at her. “She doesn’t resemble you but something about the eyes…”

They fell back into silence as the fire cracked and the house creaked as the wind pushed and pulled at it. Gold continued to look around, before pulling out his phone and cursing. “Less than ten percent.”

“I saw some candlesticks in the dining room,” Belle suggested. “Back up on a shelf.”

“What were you doing looking-” he stopped. “Never mind, let’s go get them before our phones die.”

They made quick work of it. They passed by the dark and silent staircase as they hurried to collect the candleholders and the dust encased wax candles. Neither of them said it, but both felt the feeling of something lingering just out of sight. As they moved back towards the parlor, Belle paused at the foot of the stairs, frowning up into the darkness. A silver shadow flittered just out of her sight and then vanished.

“Miss French?”

“I think there’s something up there,” Belle replied, moving towards the first step. As her hand alighted on the railing, the darkness faded away to the soft light of candles burning. A press of people milled behind her as she made her way up the stairs. Her ball gown brushed the steps as she went.  Belle’s heart beat in her chest as she went. When she reached the landing, she saw the dark form of a man waiting for her in the shadows of the west wing. 

Moving towards him, she spared no look behind her. The crush was in the dining hall still and she knew her mother would not miss her for a while yet. A hand reached out to pull her with him into the dark alcove. A gloved hand settled reverently on her cheek as he brought her face close for a kiss. 

A name dropped from her lips as he peppered kisses to her chin, her collarbone and the underside of her wrist. Brown eyes, familiar to Belle now, gazed at her. She draped her arms over his shoulder, pressing her cheek to his chest. 

Her eyes fell shut, listening to his heartbeat in his chest as his hands ran over her back. Belle murmured something she couldn’t hear. He chuckled, his chest reverberating under her cheek. Something tugged at her though, and she felt colder and colder despite the heat of his embrace. Her eyes fluttered open to find a pair of striking green eyes glowering at her. A red headed woman stood in the downstairs hall, glaring up at them as if they were the only three in the world. 

Belle faltered, and two leather-gloved hands reached out to catch her. She felt Gold lower her on the stairs, and she looked around as she realized they were on the first stair landing. The bottom floor was dark beneath them and the second floor black with shadows. 

“Belle,” he soothed her, hand clutching her own. She came to herself just long enough to wonder if he realized he had just called her by her first name. “It’s me,” he whispered. “Who’s Rumford?”

“I think,” Belle whispered, clutching at his hand like a life line. “I think you are.”

To his credit, Mr. Gold didn’t snatch his hand away, or tell her she was crazy. He just stared at her as the candle in his hand flickered in the drafts of the old house. Belle found herself clutching his hand harder. She tried to will away the ghosts that seemed determined to make them remember. Belle didn’t want to remember anymore. She regretted ever coming here. 

 The few memories so far had been happy, loving and warm but her earlier vision of the barn burning haunted her. That and the fact remained that this place stood abandoned, left behind. There had been no happy ending here, she was sure of it. A sound of a squeaking door caught their attention and they both turned towards the west wing in unison.

“I think something’s here,” Belle whispered to him. 

Gold nodded. “You feel it too?” He asked her and Belle nodded. She was relieved that it had not just been her that had felt as if someone had been watching them. Neither of them moved, both uncertain of what the next step may bring. 

The moments continued to stretch before Belle released Gold’s hand. She stood up and dusted herself off as she stared down the corridor. Her companion stared up at her and she gestured for the candelabra, which he handed over as he stood. “Sorry to get you mixed up in all this,” she apologized. “But I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.”

“Whatever this is,” Gold said, turning to glance at the east wing behind him. “I think I’m as much a part of it as you are.”

Belle lacked the energy to smile, but she held out her hand for him to take. Their gloved hands met, curling around each other in the winter air as they began to move towards the west wing. Belle walked past the alcove she had seen in her vision. She reached out to touch the corner of it but no new memories came. She lingered there for a moment but the past was waiting and she pressed on. 

As they neared what appeared to be sleeping quarters, Gold moved ahead of her. “This way,” he murmured as he disappeared into one of the rooms along the interior wall. Belle followed him, holding the torch high as she entered the bedroom. It was simple, wood floors and little else. Gold made the rounds of the small room, once twice and then standing in the center, he shook his head. “This isn’t right,” he said more to himself than to her. “Let’s keep going.”

Most rooms stood abandoned. A few had furniture still lingering under dust sheets or half eaten by moths. They spoke little. The house was growing colder and Belle missed the warmth of the fireplace downstairs. Her companion continued his search, growing more and more agitated as they went. He murmured under his breath, the occasional curse word and more than once a reference to his son. 

At the end of the hall, there was one door left. It stood partly open, as if waiting for them. Gold moved towards it, calling over his shoulder. “It’s here. It has to be." Just as a creaking groan from underneath him was the only warning before the floor gave way beneath him.

“Mr. Gold!” Belle called out, dropping the candles to grab for him. She heard the sputter of the candles as they died on impact. The heavy brass holder rolled to a stop as she fell to her knees. Mr. Gold was mercifully still on the landing. His left leg disappeared into the hole on the floor while his right splayed underneath him. He was white with shock, hands gripping for a hold on the dust smooth floor. “Oh my god,” Belle breathed, grabbing his hands as she crouched on the other side of him. “It’s going to be fine,” she reassured them both. “Are you alright?”

“My leg,” Gold croaked before shaking his head. “I…I think it’s broken.”

“Ok,” Belle racked her brain to think of what to do. A broken leg could wait till the storm broke. If he had cut an artery or there was internal bleeding, time was essential. “Can you stand up if I help?”

He nodded and on the count of three, they pulled his leg free from the gaping hole of rotted wood. Gold’s hiss of pain did not bode well. Belle saw fragments of wood and nails had shredded his pant leg.

“Let’s get a look at it,” Belle murmured, reaching for his pant leg.

“No,” Gold barked, scooting back from her. Belle regarded him with a raised eyebrow and he colored as his hand shielded his injured leg. “I’m fine,” he grunted. 

From the way he was beginning to pant, Belle doubted that was the case. She looked around, the darkness surrounding them now that the candle had gone out. “Well, let’s at least get you comfortable,” Belle suggested. “Can you get back down the stairs to the fire?” 

Gold looked down at his leg before shaking his head. “I don’t think so,” he groaned.

Belle glanced at the half open door that Gold had been hell bent on reaching and weighed her options. There had been one or two beds but they had been in exterior rooms. The windows admitted cold and wind and turned the rooms to an icebox. Plus, they were much further down the hall. If there was a bed in here, it would be a simple matter to get Gold off the floor. “Hold on,” Belle murmured, her hand reaching up to push the sweat-dampened hair from his brow. “I’m going to check and see if this room has a bed or a couch for you-“

“Belle,” croaked Gold and she paused as she stood. “Be careful,” he finished lamely. Belle could not see his features in the dark but she nodded. She began to walk, feeling out the floor.  As she reached the last bedroom, she glimpsed the shadow of a large four-post bed and she sighed in relief. 

She made her way back the few feet towards Gold. They both winced when the floors underneath her groaned at her weight. “Take my arm,” she offered, leaning down to take his weight as he used his good leg to push off the floor.

Soon, they made their way back towards the bedroom. Gold limped and sweated profusely. Belle struggled to hold his weight without toppling over. For a slight man, he weighed more than he looked. Finally, they stumbled to the bed. Gold reached out to fling the dust-covered sheet from the miraculously still present mattress. With a sigh of relief, Belle eased him down.

“Thank you,” he rasped as Belle lifted his leg up on the bed with him. There were windows on the far side of the wall.  Belle drew the moth-eaten curtains around the four-post bed. She then climbed gingerly upon it with Gold and drew the curtains tight around them to keep in some heat. She heard a chuckle behind her and turned to find Gold staring at her. “Why, Miss French,” he coughed. “This isn’t quite how I expected my evening to go.”

“Hush,” Belle urged him, making her way carefully back to his side. “You’re going into shock.”

He murmured something before wincing. Belle pulled off her glove with her teeth and laid it across his burning forehead. At the moment her bare flesh touched his, both of them flinched. Belle felt herself drop away into another time and place.

_It was still night but the windows were open and an autumn breeze came in through the curtains. The four-poster lay washed in moonlight. Belle felt a mouth slide over hers, drawing her down to the mattress as fingers snuck into her hair. She arched her back against him, feeling him tense over her even as his kiss became more insistent._

_“Isabelle,” a voice murmured into her mouth.  Belle gasped as the fingers in her hair tightened, pulling at her curls. Her head tilted obligingly and the kiss deepened. His tongue tracked its way down the corners of her lips before darting to taste the sweat in her collarbone, leaving her bereft of his kiss. She released her hold on the bed sheets, and clawed to find him in the darkness until her hands felt the solid warm muscles of his back._

_Belle heard herself pant something, her voice muffled._

_A laughing hushing noise before his touch drifted down to her spine, pushing up her nightgown to gain access to her skin. She mewed and twisted as her own greedy touch tried to pull up his shirt. He tucked his head back towards her exposed shoulder even as his fingers ran warm paths up and down her back. Her body erupted into chills despite the sweat beading on her brow._

_Belle herself was not a virgin but this felt new. Her breath came to her in gasps and moans as her lips swelled under devoted and passionate kisses. Her nightshirt balled up around her middle. It didn't even cover her sex as her breasts swelled over the cotton fabric. Her lover wasted no time in bending his lips to her darkened nipples. His hands cupping them to his mouth as he rolled them in one fine-boned hand before switching his mouth to the next. Belle arched again. She sighed in pleasure as his mouth dripped lower to her navel. He licked at her through the sheer fabric and then fastened just below on her sex, causing her to bury her hands in his hair, moaning her approval_.

Simultaneous groans brought Belle back to herself. Her body covered in sweat despite the frigid air and her hands entangled in-

“Oh, my god, Mr. Gold!”

The man was panting, face white as a sheet even as he pulled his mouth back from her neck, blinking in confusion. 

“Belle?” he murmured, voice breaking as another wave of pain swept through him. “You-“

“Me?” Belle said shrilly, scooting back. “I wasn’t- Oh my god, were you?”

He cleared his throat, before offering, “There was a nightgown?”

Belle felt a deep flush on her face, not nearly as sensitive as the growing throb between her thighs. “Okay, you were,” she confirmed shakily. “So, where does that leave us?”

“In a precocious situation,” he murmured through a grunt of pain. “Although perhaps now is a good time to start calling me Robert.”

Belle smiled, touching her lips. When she heard him stifle a groan, she hunched closer to him, unable to see him in the darkness of the curtains. “I could open the curtains and see if there’s some light-“

“Matches,” he panted. “In my coat pocket.”

“Right, right,” Belle railed at herself. She used her ungloved hand to fumble for the matchbox. When her hand closed around them, she slid off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

“I won’t go anywhere,” Robert replied and Belle smiled despite herself. She made quick work of getting out to the hallway. She skirted the gaping hole before locating the abandoned candelabra. Without thinking, she reached for it with her ungloved hand. As soon as the cold metal met her skin, she felt someone’s eyes on her.

_“He’s mine!”_

Belle stood quickly as she stared unseeing into the darkness of the hallway. “Whos’ there?” She demanded. No answer came from the shadows. She turned and hurried back to Robert, throwing one last look over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.

It took her a moment to catch the first wick but soon she had all three burning. She made her way back into the curtains to find Robert reaching out to help her back onto the bed. She did not tell him about the voice in the hallway. Neither noticed they had curled around each other. Robert’s head now lay in her lap as she held the candelabra steady away from the sheets or curtains. She smoothed his sweaty hair off his forehead as she gazed down at his features.

“Belle,” he said when she finished. “What do you think happened here?"

“Something wicked,” Belle whispered. She kept her eyes on his face so the shadows wouldn’t reach out for her. 

He grew still. She felt the tension still tight in his shoulders, whether from pain or fear she couldn’t tell. “Belle,” he said again and she smiled down at him, pleased by the way he said her name as if he had been saying it for years instead of a mere hour. “We need to get out of here.”

“In the morning,” she assured him. “As soon as the sun’s up, I’ll go back down to the car to call for help.”

He shook his head. “No, earlier on the stairs outside, I saw something. I didn’t understand until now.“

“What?” Belle asked, the voice echoing in her ears.

“A woman,” he shuddered. “She threatened you, threatened to ruin you and everything you had unless I went with her. I…” He paused, shaking hi head. “I refused and she vowed I’d be sorry. She said I was hers…”

The sound of a groan echoed in the hall, finding them in their hideaway. Belle lifted the candelabra higher, her shadow throwing itself across the curtain as if to guard the two of them from the unknown. “Belle,” Robert panted. “Belle, she won’t let them be happy. She warned me-”

“It’s okay,” Belle told him, but another groaning echo moved down the hallway as Robert clutched at her free hand. His skin was warm but clammy and Belle pulled her gaze from the curtains to look down at his eyes, glassy and pained. He tried to speak but nothing came out but a small moan.  “Sleep,” Belle begged him. “It’s almost midnight and I’ll be right here.”

Whether from the adrenaline from his fall or pain, Robert soon was unable to stay awake and fell asleep fitfully in her lap. The candles burned down. As the hot wax splattered and fell on her gloved hand, Belle kept it held upright. Still, her owns eyes began to grow heavy as she struggled to stay awake.

Finally, the last of the candles burned out and Belle pulled her cell phone out to see it was 12:01. Letting the warm metal lay down beside them, Belle leaned her head back against the headboard. She tried to keep herself awake even as her hand slowed its soothing strokes on Robert’s head. She soon descended into sleep. 

_The swirl of autumn colors decorated the hall with bursts of warmth even in the midst of the autumn harvest. The witching hour rang out as the clock struck twelve. Some partygoers began to peel away from the crowd in search of dark alcoves. Isabelle stayed forlornly by her father’s side. She watched the crowd in their masquerade masks and felt nothing._

_The war was over and their small community had come out strong in the Yankee victory. Too many young men had perished from the company. Most of the senior men like her father had been too old to serve as anything other than desk jockeys or suppliers. Now, the survivors were home with their baggage and sins. Tonight, everyone hid behind masquerade masks. It was a simple lie to celebrate the end of the war and the chance at new life. Isabelle privately thought it was too soon to celebrate life. Winter would come for them all with its cold touch. Pestilence and hunger riding its back like officers into the homes of the unwitting._

_A glimpse of red hair piled high caught her eye and she stiffened, clutching at her father’s arm. “Papa,” she whispered. “Did you invite the Mills?”_

  
_“Now, dearest,” her father sighed without turning his head down to hers. “You know the mayor’s daughters are lovely ladies. ”_

_Isabelle fell silent even as she watched Selena and Regina Mills make their way through the crowd. The spinster sisters flirted with the young war survivors, touching their lapels forwardly._

_After a spell, they moved on to the more affluent gentlemen, those who had purchased their lives by staying out of the war through their father’s wealth. Selena burned bright, her hair like flames, uncovered and unashamed. The men fawned around the two of them, eager to be the one who finally won the hands of a Mills. Isabelle thought them all fools._

_It wasn’t that the women were cruel to their staff, a fact well known by everyone. Nor was it the rumors of witchcraft that followed the sisters like shadows, no Isabelle disliked Selena Mills for a very personal and normal reason. They both were in love with the same man._

_The redheaded Selena caught her staring. Isabelle flushed. She grinned a humorless jack o lantern smile at her before turning her head to her darker sister’s, whispering as her eyes stayed on Isabelle._

_“May I have this dance?” a young man asked, coming out of nowhere to offer her his arm. Isabelle sighed even as she allowed him to take her arm, moving her to the dance floor. When they had gotten far enough away from her father, another figure appeared before them all in black._

_“I'll have this dance,” he insisted. There was no hint of a question in his voice as he took Isabelle’s arm from the younger man’s. Her original suitor gaped at them but made his way back to the fringes of the dance hall._

_Isabelle felt her being strum in anticipation as his arms closed about her. He moved her towards the dance floor just a waltz began to play. “You came,” she whispered to him, eyes shining beneath her white half mask._

_“Isabelle,” he murmured, starting the dance as his eyes raked over her upturned face. “I couldn’t stay away, heaven knows I tried for your sake-“_

_“I don’t care what father says,” she promised him, fingers tightening on his. “Let’s run away. We can go to Boston.”_

_“Darling,” he whispered. He swirled her around so her feet came off the floor for one brief second of bliss. “You know we can’t. The matter at hand is still that I am a penniless war deserter, not even fit for your smile much less your hand in marriage.”_

_“Rum,” Isabelle scolded, pressing her check to his chest at the next turn. “That doesn’t matter to me. I know you. You’re one of the bravest men I’ve ever known and no one will tell me differently.”_

_The waltz began to change to a faster reel, and he caught her hand, tugging her behind him off the dance floor. She passed a few curious bystanders, all whispering about the man in all black. Isabelle hid her smile behind her fan. As they disappeared into the night, she did not notice Selena Mills standing just beyond the door, her face twisted in anger._

_Laughing they made their way into the deepest part of the gardens.  Rum’s limp was hardly noticeable as he guided her through the paths. They came out near the barn. Isabelle leaned into him. His head came down to meet her upturned lips when the smell of smoke trickled into her nose-_

No, Belle thought struggling to consciousness. Smoke was in her nose, not Isabelle’s. She parted the curtain to find smoke curling into their room from the closed door. Devilish red light leaked in from under the door way. 

“Robert,” Belle whispered, shaking him awake. He protested, and Belle almost cried when she saw how his face twisted in pain. “Robert, you have to wake up, please!”

He came around slowly, a brief smile lighting his features as he reached up to caress the edge of her chin. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “In this life and the last.”

Despite the smoke and the fire on the other side of the door, Belle choked out a laugh as she pressed a kiss to his forehead.  “I found you,” she whispered to him. “God knows how but I found you.”

His nose wrinkled as the smell of smoke finally broke the haze of his fever dream and pain. “Is something burning?” he asked her and Belle nodded as tears pooled in her eyes.

“We left the fire burning downstairs,” she reminded him. “And we must have pushed the fainting couch too close to the flames-“

Robert struggled to sit upright. Belle held him back down, moving out from underneath him and pressing him back down to the mattress. “You have to stay still,” she ordered him. She pulled the curtain back further to reveal the growing embers from under the door.

“Belle, the windows,” Robert suggested, holding out the candelabra.  Belle nodded and grabbed the worn sheet that had covered the bed. She stuffed it under the crack in the door to prevent smoke from getting in any quicker. She then made her way to the window. She reared back to smash the candelabra as hard as she could against the old and brittle glass.

Mercifully, it worked. A gust of snow and wind came swirling into the room and the smoke rushed out. Belle craned her neck out to glance down at the building. She found to her horror the entire east wing was aflame with fire and ash. She ducked back in to find Robert had crawled to the edge of the bed, using his good leg to try and get down.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, moving back towards him. “You’re going to kill yourself-“

“I’ll never make it down to the ground. For you though, there’s a choice. It’s either dying of frostbite or burning alive,” Robert said grimly. “You have a chance to make it back to the car if you keep your wits about you.”

Belle stared at him in outrage. Her hands trembled until she dropped the candelabra and marched back towards him. “I’m not leaving you,” Belle said furiously, wrapping herself around him. He hugged her closer to him, his hands dipping lower to hold her firmly against him. “You have to try,” he murmured in her hair. “For me.”

As the sounds of fire grew nearer, the crackling popping noise of ancient wood giving way to the flame, Belle had the strong sensation of someone watching her but it lacked the earlier malevolence of the hallway’s presence.

 Opening her eyes, she saw two silhouettes on the far side of the bed. They flickered in and out of the snow swirling into the room. “Robert,” Belle breathed into the nape of his neck. He murmured something and held her tighter. One of the silhouettes moved closer to the bed, an arm extending to reach out to her. Belle felt her own hand lift from Robert’s shoulder to meet it.

_It was summer. Isabelle lifted her head from the chest of her lover to find the sky lit with burning reds, oranges and pinks. Confused, she sat upright. Dawn was still hours away or else Rum would have spirited away lest her father or the maids catch him in her bed. It had been nearly three months since they had first loved each other that night out by the barn, each time as new and exciting as the first._

_No, it was not the sunrise._

_“Rum,” Isabelle shook him awake. “The barn is on fire!”_

_Half awake, her lover rolled over to blink at the window full of flames. He grunted and hauled himself out of bed. She heard the servants below waking.  Some calling out as the back door opened and she hurried to the window to see her father racing towards the barn. The horses they bred were the only thing standing between them and financial ruin. The years following the war had been lean and hard for everyone._

_“Papa!” Belle cried, tugging the window open to yell out. “Papa, stop!”_

_He did not hear or heed her. He disappeared into the flaming barn as the sound of horse’s screaming rose into the night air. She turned to find Rum had dressed, tugging his last boot on before he pulled her to him in a last desperate kiss. “I have to help,” he whispered into her lips before he pulled away and headed towards the stairs._

_“Rum, no!” She exclaimed but he had whirled away and was gone, the hallway door closing shut behind him. Even if he survived this stunt, he had just exposed himself to the entire household by going out the back door instead of the priest hole._

_Isabelle tugged on her dressing gown. She pulled her slippers on before she hurried after him down the dark hallway. Some maids lingered by the front door. They were all clucking like hens at the sight of the despised deserter whom had just materialized like a ghost from the upper landing. Isabelle pushed past them, flinging herself down the stairs after Rumford._

_He had already reached the gate. He pulled it open and rushed across the field by the time she cleared the porch. She felt her stomach tighten and clench as he disappeared into the barn after her father. The flames burst higher, catching the loft where the feed and hay was and smoke billowed out of the crevices. Isabelle barely reached the last landing when the horses burst from the barn.  Some had their tails and manes ablaze. A few brave souls rushed after them with blankets or pails of water but Isabelle only had eyes for the barn._

_As her hand clasped the warm steel of the iron gate, she stilled. She twisted her head to find in the corner of the lane by the grove, a figure standing in the darkness. Her head was covered but a glimpse of red like flame shone out and Isabelle met Selena Mills’ eyes in the darkness._

_“You!” She called out, moving towards her, heedless of the other woman’s social status or the powers people claimed she yielded. “You did this!”_

_“I warned you,” the woman hissed. “You’ll never have him. In this life or the next!”_

_Just then, she heard the groan of the barn. Half of it fell forward, collapsing in on itself even as she felt her knees collapse beneath her. All was darkness except the faint glimmer of green eyes wide in triumph._

She heard Robert calling for her. With an effort, she let go of the flames and the summer night. She returned to him there in the cold room of the house that was burning down around them. She was still next to him but he had pulled her face into his hands, a worried look on his face as he called her name. She felt the tears come, looking into the blackness on the other side of the bed to find the ghosts were gone. 

“He died,” Belle hiccupped. She put her arms around Robert’s neck and brought him close to her. “He tried to help her and he left her- Robert, you left me!"

She was crying hard now. Heedless of her own death as the pull of the memory dragged her down into a different lifetime of grief and pain. Robert, bewildered, clutched her to him as he murmured words of comfort. “I won’t leave you now,” he promised her, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’m here, Belle, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

“Wait,” Belle hiccupped again, sitting upright and staring at the far wall. A faint memory tugged at her, something the specter had wanted her to see. “He wasn’t supposed to go in the main hall. You should have left by the-“

She jolted to her feet, ignoring his protests as she struggled to see in the dark. Then, her fingers descended on a small uneven surface on the molding. She pulled at it, feeling the wall give way and a hidden door sprang seamless from the wall. 

“Belle, how did you-“

“A priest’s hole,” Belle crowed, rushing back over to him. “It’s how Isabelle and Rum carried on their affair. He came this way the night of the fire-“

Managing to get him on his feet, the two of them limped their way to the hidden door. A winding staircase disappeared into the darkness below and he turned to her, white as a sheet. “Promise me,” he said through gritted teeth. “If the door is locked and you can’t get out, you’ll go back upstairs and try and climb down.”

Belle shook her head, “It won’t be locked,” she assured him.

“Promise me,” he repeated, gripping her hand. “Tell Neal…I’m sorry.”

Belle swallowed. “You’ll tell them yourselves,” she told him fiercely. He gripped her tighter and they began to make their way down the stairs. It was warmer as they went down. The fire from the ground floor must have been spreading. Belle found it hard to keep a grip on Robert as they went, the sweat and heat from the fire making him slick. Finally, they reached the bottom.  Belle left Robert leaning against the staircase as she made her way forward in the darkness. 

A silver shadow flickered just to her left. Belle followed it, her hand finally falling on a small round knob. With a twist, it chinked open and a rush of cold fresh winter air almost knocked her over. The shade disappeared. Belle whispered a quick thank you before rushing back to Robert. He looked almost half dead from exhaustion and pain.

They made it as far as ten feet from the house before the snow and ice became too much. Robert cried out as he slipped and fell to the ground. Belle followed him down, the snow soaking through her leggings and the tweed of her skirt as snow slushed down into her boots. She plucked at Robert’s shoulders, trying to pull him up. He groaned and went still as the pain finally became too much to bear. 

With a murmur of denial, Belle gathered his head to her chest. She looked up at the burning flames envelop the house and reach higher and higher into the sky. The magnificent building groaned as it burned . She saw the silvery figures standing at the broken window on the second floor. Tears escaped down her cheeks as she stared up at them. They stood motionless, watching her. She cried out to them for help but they did nothing but fade away. 

A cruel high wicked laugh caught Belle’s attention through the shriek of the wind and the crackling of the flames. She twisted her head to find the porch doused in flames. A figure all in black stood among them, her arms upraised to the heavens as she danced in the fire. She melted away into the roaring embers and Belle dipped her head down to touch Robert’s cooling head, knowing just as Isabelle had known who was the cause of their destruction.

“Belle!”

She closed her eyes and burrowed deeper into the fading warmth and lingering scent of Robert. She would hold on to him as long as she could before death claimed them both. 

“She’s over here! Get the Sheriff!”

“Dad!” 

Belle felt someone tugging Robert away from her and she cried out, holding him closer until a hand, warm and alive descended on her ungloved and almost frozen fingers. Someone whispered, “It’s okay, Belle. I’ve got him.”

She met the chocolate brown eyes of Robert, in the youthful face of his son. She lasted just long enough to look up at the shades lingering in the window before she collapsed into the snow. 

-

News travelled fast in a small town like Storybrooke. Not two days after the disappearance of Robert Gold and the tourist Belle French, the entire town knew the two of them were engaged and recuperating in the same hospital room. 

Neal swore he hadn’t told a soul, but his grandson, shrugging, made no such promises. Belle smiled at him from her bed, glancing over at Emma who was leaning against the doorway. The Sheriff had found her father-in-law's car in the lane, called in back up and an ambulance to scour the nearby woods to find the missing pair. 

Robert’s leg had been severely damaged, first from the break, then internal bleeding and finally some amount of frostbite in the muscles. He was lucky to keep his leg but the doctor warned he would never walk without the use of a cane again. Currently, he was glowering at his daughter-in-law. “But the fire, Emma,” he insisted. 

Emma frowned, eyes flickering to Belle briefly before back at him. “Gold,” she said with a sigh, using her preferred name for him. “Spinner’s Rest burned to the ground over a hundred years ago. See?”

She handed Belle a newspaper article, copied on an old fax machine and blurry from disuse. It had the same picture that Belle had in her coat pocket. Belle scanned it quickly. The Lovecraft Ancestral home had burned to the ground in the night, a day after the recently married Selena Hall, nee Mills, had taken residence. The article discussed the deaths of the previous tenant and another unnamed man who had perished in another mysterious fire that had claimed the barn the year prior. A brief line mentioned his only daughter had died of consumption the following winter, leaving the house vacant.

 She handed it wordlessly over to Gold before shaking her head. “But we were there.”

“You got lost in the woods, broke your leg in the dark and hallucinated,” Neal offered. “There’s no need to get embarrassed over it.”

“I grew up in these parts,” Robert growled from his bed, handing her back the clipping. “I wouldn’t have gotten lost in the woods," he argued. "Much less stayed out in a blizzard without at least trying to find the road.”

“Enough,” Emma shook her head, hands held up as if to defuse the situation. “All that matters is everyone’s safe.”

Robert grumbled and Neal frowned but they let it pass. After a while, the nurse came in to announce visiting hours were over. Neal and Emma left, promising to be back tomorrow with Henry.  

As soon as the nurse had left, Belle got out of her bed and crept into Robert’s, careful not to tangle any wires. He made room for her, tucking her under his chin as she laid her head on his chest. He mumbled, “I just don’t understand how we could have been in the house- watch it burn-”

“It wanted us to remember,” Belle whispered, shivering as she recalled Selena’s eyes, crazed and wild. “All the pain and death was haunting it. Maybe it needed us to come back to cleanse it of her hate.”

Silence fell between them as the memories of their past faded and swirled with the haunted house on the hill. Belle felt Robert’s breath growing shallow as sleep came for them. “Hey,” she whispered, hand reaching out to take his in hers. He murmured a wordless noise of content. “I missed you.”

“And I you,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

As they both fell asleep entwined in each other’s arms, they did not mourn the past and everything they had once lost.

They dreamed of the future awaiting them. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! Thanks for reading! I know some things are still kind of up in the air, but I've always liked the forgotten, unknown elements in a good ghost story. Hope you enjoyed!


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